


Innocence Maintained

by etcetera_kit



Category: Super Sentai Series, 宇宙戦隊キュウレンジャー | Uchu Sentai Kyuranger
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Smut, Murder, Prisoners, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetera_kit/pseuds/etcetera_kit
Summary: Naaga had lost track of how long he and Balance had been in the Jark Matter work camp, when the Chief Retainer and his younger brother appear.





	Innocence Maintained

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the other AU I mentioned over on tumblr. :) Definite AU, so no spoilers for the series therein. (I would call this a timeline divergence AU, more than anything else. The origin and timeline happen differently.) Darkness, very dark things happening within. If you like rainbows and unicorns, perhaps skip this one? Otherwise, enjoy!

**Innocence Maintained**   
_It’s time we made a place where people’s souls can be seen and made safe._

“Line them up! Chief Retainer is coming!”

Naaga stumbled a little, bumping into Balance as they were jostled into line. Balance gave him a quick look and he just nodded slightly. They faced the warden in front of them, eyes down. Their work camp had never seen a Chief Retainer before.

The arresting officer had told them, _only a matter of time before you two ended up in a work camp_. Naaga’s home planet had been invaded by Jark Matter and his people scattered. He’d gotten separated from the others and met Balance, also on the run from his own planet and separated from his people. Balance had been scraping by as a petty thief, always stealing from Jark Matter officers and sympathizers. He figured with Naaga, the two of them could pull off more dangerous heists with bigger treasures. And they had, for a few months, at least. Naaga’s home planet would not have condoned stealing, but Jark Matter had taken everything from him and he wanted to do something, however small, to hurt them back. 

His home planet in the Ophiuchus System did not express emotions, keeping everything neutral and calm to avoid conflict. He’d seen emotions on their travels, started to recognize them in himself, until they got caught and sent here.

The work camp was harsh and cruel. They worked long days in the mines and industrial buildings of this planet, gathering resources and making weapons for Jark Matter. Sometimes they got food supplement pills. Sleep seemed like a luxury, because no one was safe when they were supposed to be sleeping. The wardens would get bored. No one cared about prisoners like them, so the wardens would use them for all kinds of things. Naaga did not know how many times he’d been dragged by their campfire and hurt until he cried out—a game for them, see how long the Ophiuchus man can go without showing pain or crying. He’d barely been able to walk after the last time. And some of the wardens had other appetites. An assassin often came here and she had taken a particular interest in Naaga. He’d never told Balance what she did to him in her tent.

He and Balance were still in the same work group. As long as they didn’t act too much like friends, the wardens would let them stay in the same group. Balance was mechanical and not a target for the wardens, not like Naaga was. And Balance could not protect him here. No one could.

“Scorpio-sama,” one of the wardens said, bowing low.

Two men walked into the room. Same height. The one in front was wearing black robes with a purple stripe—definitely a Chief Retainer. He had a black scorpion tail and all Naaga could really focus on were his black boots, polished to a high shine. The one behind him looked younger, not quite as harsh and cruel, although his expression was impassive. He had a scorpion tail like the other one, but his tail was orange. He was wearing boots, black pants and covered in a cloak of some kind. 

“These are the ones in this sector?” the one called Scorpio asked.

The warden nodded. “Everyone is here and accounted for.”

“Stinger!” Scorpio said and the other man stepped forward. “Any of these do?”

Stinger stepped around Scorpio, taking all the prisoners in with a sharp eye. His eyes settled on Balance and Naaga felt a sharp pang of anxiety run through him. Then those eyes were settling on him, the anxiety growing in an ugly shiver down his back.

“That one is mechanical?” Stinger asked the warden, gesturing to Balance. The warden groveled an affirmation. “Did he come in with the one from the Ophiuchus System?” Another affirmation. Stinger looked at them both. “Those two. Send the mechanical one to maintenance for diagnostics and repairs. I’ll send for him when I need him. Clean up the other, heal him and bring him to my quarters.”

“Finally,” Scorpio said. “We’d been to nearly all the work camps here. I was beginning to think you’d never find something to suit your tastes.”

Stinger’s expression was cold, but his eyes seemed softer, thoughtful. “He’ll do nicely.”

Naaga couldn’t stop the shudder as a warden grabbed his bound hands and led him out of the line, Balance following with another warden. Stinger clearly was not a Jark Matter official, but was someone in Scorpio’s good favor.

What was Stinger going to do to him?

\--------------------

The medical bay was cold and impersonal. An android told him to take off all his clothes and put on a paper gown. There was no such thing as modesty in a place like this, so he just did as he was told and put his clothes in a waste container, slipping on the paper gown. He laid down in the pod as the android instructed and the pod closed. He closed his eyes, knowing that the pod would release millions of nano-bots that would identify and heal any injuries or disease in him. 

Briefly, he thought to the two small globes he and Balance had found on one of their last heists, one silver and one gold. Balance had hidden them in his chest and none of the diagnostic scans had picked them up or removed them. Naaga didn’t know why, but it felt important that those two small, worthless globes stayed with them. 

A warden was waiting when he came out of the pod.

“Keep that on,” the warden said, meaning the gown. “You’ll bathe in Stinger-sama’s quarters and he’s ordered new clothes for you.” The warden’s tone indicated that Naaga was lucky to be chosen. He already knew what a Jark Matter assassin was capable of in the dark, and he could not imagine the pain that awaited him at the hands of a Chief Retainer’s favored one.

A small knot of dread formed in his stomach.

Stinger was not in his quarters when they got there. The warden pushed Naaga through the spacious apartment—a living area loosely separated from a massive bedroom and finally into a bathroom that was bigger and more elegant than anything Naaga had seen in his life. The warden ripped off the paper gown, crushing it into a ball. Naaga did not even bother to react or try to cover himself. This was all part of being here. Being naked did not matter.

“Scrub,” the warden said, pointing to the shower. “Take as long as you like. Towels are there,” he added, pointing to a stack of fluffy white towels. “I wouldn’t bother getting dressed when you’re done. Stinger-sama will probably want you naked.”

And the warden was gone.

Naaga stood there for a moment. He could run, but that would just mean he’d be beaten and dragged back here. At least Stinger had chosen Balance too? He let out a shaky breath, trying to quell the fear that kept growing and spreading throughout his body. He hadn’t had an actual shower in a long time—just the occasional disinfectant spray. How bad would it be to take just a moment and enjoy the warm water and soap? Maybe if he did what Stinger wanted, he could escape being hurt and could enjoy things like this for a while. Maybe. 

The warm water felt amazing. Gray water ran off his feet, the months of grime washing away. The soap smelled spicy, lathering thickly over his skin, some high quality brand Naaga had never heard of. He soaped himself up twice, trying to scrub away the bad memories, the things that had been done to him without his consent. His own body had started to seem foreign, disconnected from him, like if he could just detach from what was happening, he’d be alright. The shampoo was scented like the soap. He rubbed his fingers harshly into his scalp, working the shampoo into his hair. The first rinse of the shampoo came out with the grime from the camp, so he washed his hair a second time as well. He stood under the hot spray for a little while longer, letting the water pummel his skin, letting him forget for a moment.

The shower reminded him of home, of better times before Jark Matter. 

He had never cried in his life before coming here and now every day seemed to be filled with pain and tears. He was not going to cry in the shower—there was no point as that would gain him nothing. His hands were shaking as he turned off the water. He wanted to stay in the shower forever, but sooner or later, someone would drag him out and he’d find out exactly what Stinger wanted from him. 

The towels were thick and warm as he dried off. The warden had not pointed out the clothes, but there was a shirt and pants on the counter in the bathroom. Simple clothing, but better made than anything the prisoners got. He pulled on the t-shirt and loose pants. His hair was still damp. An unused toothbrush and toothpaste was on the counter, so he decided to delay the inevitable by brushing his teeth first. The nano-bots would have corrected anything, but the toothpaste helped even out the bile that was rising anxiously in his throat. 

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Stinger was in the apartment. Food had been placed on the table. He had removed his outerwear and was just in his black pants and a tunic-style shirt. He looked up from a datapad as Naaga walked out.

“You found the clothes,” Stinger commented, looking pleased. He put the datapad on the table.

Naaga nodded, keeping his eyes down. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Naaga, right?” Stinger asked, crossing the room to him. Naaga nodded. Stinger’s fingers were on his chin, gently lifting his gaze from the ground. Stinger was quiet for a moment, just studying him. Naaga tried not to squirm or shy away from the gaze—he almost felt like Stinger could see through him, see through the neutral façade into the hurt and the pain and the fear. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Stinger said, slight frown on his face.

Naaga watched as he crossed the room to a small pack at the foot of the bed. He came back to Naaga, holding up a small globe.

He had to stop himself from making a noise. The globe was identical to the ones that were hidden in Balance’s chest right now, only this one was orange and had a different marking on the globe itself. “Have you seen one of these before?” he asked.

No. Now Jark Matter was trying to steal worthless globes from them too? How had they even found out about those? None of the scans on Balance had picked them up!

Naaga sealed his lips, remaining silent.

“Hey,” Stinger said softly. “I’m a Kyuuranger.” 

Naaga looked up sharply. The Kyuurangers were a legend, a myth. The wardens would have said something if Kyuurangers had actually appeared. Instead, they just continued to hurt them and talk about how Jark Matter was the greatest force in the world. 

“We tracked two Kyuutamas and their owners to this planet. The Kyuutamas haven’t activated yet.” Stinger paused, expression open and serious. “Those Kyuutamas belong to you and Balance. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Now Naaga could not stop his reaction. He reeled back, hitting the edge of the bed and collapsing to the floor. He was trying to control his breathing as tears sprang to his eyes. A lot of horrible things had happened to him here, but no one had promised to get him out. Getting out was impossible—they all had trackers implanted into them. If they crossed the boundaries, the trackers would explode and kill them. He’d seen others who couldn’t take it anymore cross those boundaries. All that was left of them was pieces. What was this new level of cruelty? A tear fell down his cheek.

Stinger kept his distance but was speaking softly, hands raised slightly. “It’s okay,” he was saying, tone even and soothing. “This is a lot. You’re not ready to hear everything. You need food and rest.” His face was sympathetic, but also angry, not at Naaga, he realized after a moment, but at the situation and what had been done to Naaga. “I’m sorry we didn’t track you two down sooner, before you ended up here. I can’t imagine what has happened to you and I know what they do to prisoners in these places.” He exhaled. “You’re safe. I am not going to let anyone else hurt you ever again.”

Naaga watched warily as Stinger approached him slowly, getting down on the floor with him. A part of him was relieved when Stinger did not make a move to touch him. 

“You want to eat some of the food here?” he asked.

Naaga had no idea why, but he said, “We are only allowed supplements.” Essentially, pills with the nutrition and calories they would need. Granted, they were never given to them regularly nor were they given enough of the pills for them to actually be a supplement. Food was for the wardens and the assassins and other Jark Matter officials who came here.

“You’re under my protection,” Stinger replied. “Which means you can have food and a bed and anything else you want.”

Stinger stood up. The last time they’d actually been given supplements had been sometime yesterday morning, so Naaga had to admit that the food in the room smelled good and he was really hungry. Stinger was keeping distance between them as Naaga slowly got up, following him over to the table. He was grateful for that small kindness. Stinger motioned to a chair and Naaga sat down at the table. Stinger sat across from him, eyes worried. All of his kindness and words could be a ruse to get Naaga to lower his guard, trust him, and then he could do some terrible thing to him. But he was hungry and tired and desperately wanted to believe the legend of the Kyuurangers. 

“I had Spada put together something simple,” Stinger was saying softly. “Just some raw fruits and vegetables, cheese, crackers, a little bit of chicken.” He shrugged. “I thought that might be easier after months of the supplements.” 

Naaga reached out towards the platter, hand shaking. He grabbed a grape quickly and popped the fruit into his mouth. The grape was sweet and ripe, just like he remembered.

He couldn’t trust Stinger—couldn’t trust him at all. Not yet.

A small part of him relaxed when Stinger began to eat the food too. 

He would eat, but then he needed to know what Stinger really wanted.

\--------------------

“I tried to tell him he could sleep in the bed—he’d be more comfortable, but he insisted that the couch was fine.”

“He probably thought he’d have slightly more protection against something unwanted if he stayed on the couch.” Balance paused, gaze going over to Naaga. “I don’t know the full extent of anything that he’s been through, but he doesn’t trust anyone for good reasons.”

Naaga was sleeping heavily now.

He’d eaten a lot of the food—not as much as Stinger would have liked him to, but enough. He seemed to think, now that he’d eaten, that Stinger would do something to him. He’d been on edge and jumpy and Stinger really just wanted him to relax. Naaga might be underweight right now, but he still had a Kyuutama bonded to him. That meant any blows from him would pack a punch. And Stinger’s cover would start to be shaky if he ended up with a black eye and couldn’t explain away the injury to Scorpio. And if he said the injury came from his personal servant? Scorpio would want Naaga executed immediately, which would also blow this entire extraction mission. 

Naaga had started yawning and then curled up on the couch. Stinger offered him the bed and he’d refused. So once he’d fallen asleep, Stinger just covered him with a blanket. Naaga had ultimately said very little to him, but he was haunted and traumatized and definitely did not believe that Stinger was here to rescue him. That stung a little, and getting people to open up to him was not Stinger’s strong suit. 

So he’d sent for Balance. 

Balance, as it turned out, was from the Libra System, from a race of mechanical lifeforms that lived for centuries. He was one of the younger ones, around three hundred years old. In spite of being in the work camp and having just been through extensive repairs and diagnostics, Balance was still optimistic, upbeat and cheerful. The moment Stinger showed him the Kyuutama, Balance clutched at his chest for a moment and then produced two Kyuutamas from his chest cavity—one silver and one gold. The gold one was pulsing with KyuuEnergy, now activated and not simply bonded. 

“Tenbin Kyuutama,” Stinger had said. “It’s active now.”

“Does that mean I’m a Kyuuranger?”

He’d cheered a little when Stinger confirmed he was. Stinger’s own Kyuutama was slowly pulsing with orange light in response to Balance’s Kyuutama activating. 

“This one’s Naaga’s, huh?” Balance had said, holding up the Hebitsukai Kyuutama. 

Stinger confirmed. “It’s bonded to him. It’s just not active yet.”

Now, Balance just adjusted the blanket around Naaga, tucking him in more securely.

“So how’s all this work?” Balance asked. “You get us as your personal servants and then we all skip out of here?”

“More or less,” Stinger replied as Balance came over to the table and sat across from him. “I had to get in with Jark Matter and then get close enough to someone with enough power to go pick servants from the prisoners at work camps.”

“And that was Scorpio?”

Stinger winced a little. “He’s my older brother.”

Balance whistled softly. “Damn. He’s a Jark Matter Chief Retainer and you’re a Kyuuranger? That’s messed up.”

“Tell me about it.” He paused. “Took a long time to get him to fully trust me.”

“And you’re about to throw away that cover to get us out?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Rebellion won’t actually be able to extract you for at least ten days. I figured it would be better to have you both under my protection instead of in the work camp.”

“So what do you want us to do until then?”

Stinger shrugged. “Put on a good show in front of Jark Matter officials. Other than that, rest. I have Seiza Blasters for you both, so you can practice using your Kyuutama.”

“That’s it, huh?” Balance was holding his Kyuutama. “I should just act like your butler or something?”

“If you want.”

“What about Naaga?”

“That’s more complicated.”

Balance looked up from his Kyuutama to Stinger, head tilted to one side in confusion. “So wait. You told Scorpio you wanted Naaga for—oh.” Realization dawned on Balance. “You could get a mechanical servant to schlep stuff around, spar with, whatever, but getting both? You needed a purpose for two, so you told Scorpio you wanted Naaga for—“

“Yes,” Stinger cut him off. “I’m not going to do anything to him,” he added quickly.

“I know,” Balance replied. “But won’t he be able to tell? I mean, that you two aren’t… you know.”

“I can prevent anyone else from doing anything to him by saying he’s mine and I don’t want others to touch him.” He paused. “The rest… I don’t know. I got as far as getting you both here. Naaga is not going to react well. I didn’t even want to touch him earlier because he was so scared.”

“Naaga’s stronger than even he knows. Once he wakes up and gets oriented to all this, I think you two can come up with something.”

Balance looked down at his Kyuutama for a few seconds. When he looked back up, he looked determined and a little sad. “I think you should know—I don’t know a lot of the details of what Naaga’s been through. I couldn’t protect him, not really. And I’m mechanical, so my uses tend to be twenty-hour days in the mines and not entertainment for the wardens. I know the wardens would get bored at night and takes turns beating him around their campfire—a sick game, see how long it took him to cry out. It’s really sad that I hoped that was the worst thing to happen to him.

“Then this assassin named Madaako showed up. She likes pain. Gets her off. She took a particular interest in Naaga. She used to take him to her tent every night she would be here. Naaga never told me what she did to him. But he’d be limping and withdrawn, almost catatonic, for weeks after she left. He didn’t even cry. It’s like he was just gone after it would happen.”

Stinger swore softly.

“I think he still trusts me,” Balance continued. “He’ll trust you too. He just needs time.”

Naaga stirred over on the couch. They both turned. He was clearly still half-asleep, because he pushed himself up, the blanket falling to the ground, and just padded across the room to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Stinger frowned. “Is he okay?”

Balance waved away the concern. “He’s fine. He’s just been living on supplements for months—those make organics go to the bathroom way less than normal. You gave him real food. Natural consequences of actually eating something.”

When Naaga came out of the bathroom, he was clearly more awake.

“Balance?” His voice conveyed surprise as he walked across the room.

“Naaga!” Balance replied cheerily and enthusiastically. He crossed the room to Naaga and pulled him into a bear hug, actually lifting him off the ground a little. Naaga looked a little jarred at Balance hugging him, but was clearly used to Balance and okay with Balance touching him. His gray eyes warily slid over Stinger as Balance released him.

“You’ve met Stinger,” Balance said conversationally as he led Naaga to the table.

He picked up Naaga’s Kyuutama and handed the small globe to him. Naaga stared at the silver globe in his hand, and then looked frantically from Balance to Stinger, and then back to Balance. “Balance,” he said softly. “You—“

“It’s fine,” Balance cut off his concern. “Stinger’s a Kyuuranger and he’s with Rebellion.” He held up his Kyuutama, still glowing gold a little. “Look, look! Mine’s activated! These are Kyuutamas! They picked us and we get to be Kyuurangers too! Awesome, right?”

Naaga just held his Kyuutama, looking down at the silver globe and then back to Balance and then Stinger. He appeared to be thinking fast, but wasn’t coming to any conclusions. “How do you know we can trust him?” Naaga asked, sounding a little panicked.

“Look!” Balance held his Kyuutama out towards Stinger’s. Both the Kyuutamas began to glow softly, responding to one another.

“But—“

“Yours hasn’t activated yet,” Balance said quickly. “But it will! Don’t worry!”

Stinger watched as Naaga just sat down in one of the chairs at the table. He looked overwhelmed, wary and, above all, still exhausted. Balance was studying Naaga, and then said, “Hey, Stinger, can you give us a minute?”

He nodded and went out onto the balcony of the room, shutting the door behind him. He hoped Balance was explaining to Naaga the reason Scorpio thought Stinger needed them both. Naaga might take that news better coming from Balance—if Stinger told him, he might just think it was another ruse to get under his defenses and take advantage of him. He hated being here, hated seeing what his brother had become, hated seeing what Jark Matter did to innocent people. If he thought breaking cover and making a run for it now would get them back to ORION-gou alive, he’d do it. But right now, that kind of run would get them all killed. 

After a few minutes, Balance opened the door, motioning him back in.

Naaga was still sitting at the table, eyes wide and fixed on his Kyuutama.

A knock on the door startled them all.

Stinger strode to the door, Balance looked ready to scramble into something that made him look like he was a butler, and Naaga stumbled to his feet. “That should just be Spada with dinner,” Stinger explained. “Just stay over there.”

His brother or some other Jark Matter official could be there, but when he opened the door, Spada was the only one standing there, pushing a small cart. He ushered Spada into the room quickly and shut the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” Spada asked.

“I’m fine. Everyone is fine.”

Then Spada noticed Balance and Naaga in his room. Spada frowned. “Uh, Stinger, what—“

“I told Scorpio I needed servants.” He shrugged.

Spada gave him a level look. “That changes the extraction plan.”

“I know.”

“Uh, hi?” Balance asked.

Stinger introduced them quickly. “This is Spada,” he explained. “He’s also a Kyuuranger and he’s undercover here as a chef.”

“I am a chef—Rebellion just gave me a new identity.”

“We’re Kyuurangers too!” Balance was really excited about that.

Spada pushed the cart over to the table and put the dinner food there. He told Naaga to start eating, grabbed Stinger’s sleeve and dragged him onto the balcony. “I thought it was weird you ordered two dinners,” Spada hissed once they got out there. “I know Scorpio would have let you have Balance—they use mechanical lifeforms for all kinds of things. But Naaga? You had to tell Scorpio you wanted him for sex, didn’t you?”

“It was the only way to get them out of the work camp!”

“How are you planning on faking things with Naaga? You know Scorpio will notice!”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet!”

“Does Naaga know?”

“Yes!” Maybe.

Spada shook his head. “I’ll report back to the Commander that we need to alter the extraction plan, but you better know what you’re doing with Naaga.”

“I’m not going to hurt him!”

Spada sighed. “I know.” He paused. “My Kyuutama has been glowing all afternoon.”

“They have their Kyuutamas—Balance had them hidden in his chest. Balance’s activated. Naaga’s is still bonded but dormant.” 

They went back into the rooms and Spada took the cart away. He took Balance with him, to show him the ropes—taking away dishes, bringing up their food, housekeeping things that would not make anyone look twice at Balance. Balance hid his Kyuutama in his chest again, gave Naaga a squeezing hug before he left and was off with a skip and a wave.

“Does anything get him down?” Stinger muttered as he joined Naaga at the table.

Naaga looked up from his food. “Some things,” he replied vaguely.

“That was rhetorical,” he said warmly.

Naaga put down his fork. He looked determined. “Balance told me how you got Scorpio to agree to let you take two servants.” He took a deep breath. “Whatever we need to do to get out of here… I’ll be okay. I can handle it.”

“Hopefully we won’t have to do much of anything.”

And he really hoped that was true.

\--------------------

The next day, he got a message from Spada: _Scorpio is headed to you._

Stinger looked across the room. Naaga was sitting on the corner of the bed, legs crossed. He was holding his Kyuutama and Stinger’s, starting intently at the two. He’d been a little frustrated that morning. Balance’s Kyuutama activated the moment it was around Stinger’s. Naaga was trying to understand why his had not activated.

“Just give it time,” Stinger had said. “Garou had his Kyuutama for a long time before it actually activated. He had to find his reason to fight.”

“I want to fight.”

“That’s not always why the Kyuutamas activate.”

Scorpio had a tendency to not knock and just walk in, even on his own brother. He liked to keep his underlings in line with the surprise, make sure they were not doing anything against him. He also liked the power walking in on people gave him—Stinger was sure he’d caught people in all kind of compromising situations and he had no problem playing those cards when needed.

“Scorpio is coming here,” Stinger said softly, urgently.

Naaga looked up, eyes wide. 

Stinger crossed the room to him. He gently took Naaga’s Kyuutama and put the small globe into his pack for safekeeping. His own Kyuutama could stay out, because part of the reason Scorpio allowed him here was because he thought he was a Kyuuranger who had defected from the others. Naaga’s eyes were tracking his movements. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Naaga unfolded his legs and stood up. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

Stinger gently pulled Naaga’s shirt up and over his head, depositing the garment on the bed. Naaga made a motion like he wanted to cover up, but kept his hands down. “It’s okay,” Stinger muttered, hand on his waist, trying to sooth him. Naaga was tense and shaking a little.

He kept one hand on his waist, drawing him closer. He gently traced Naaga’s cheekbone with his thumb for a moment, before threading his fingers through Naaga’s hair. He pressed their lips together, feeling Naaga freeze, confused, not responding. He pulled back for a moment. Naaga’s eyes were wide, but not really with fear anymore, more like wonder. Naaga’s skin was soft under his touch, and he leaned in again, catching him open-mouthed. Naaga’s breath hitched and he made a desperate sound into the kiss, pressing forward, responding eagerly this time. Stinger felt his hands on his shoulders, fingers grasping his shirt. Unbidden, shivers went down his back. Naaga had melted into the kiss, body warm and pliant. 

The door opened and his brother said, “Am I interrupting something?”

Stinger broke the kiss, keeping an arm around Naaga’s waist. He kept his breathing steady, not having to pretend to be annoyed because he actually was. He turned to give Scorpio a bored look. “Not just yet,” he replied. “What?” 

“Elidron is headed for a new planet. Rebellion is orbiting. We need to decide which forces to deploy.”

“You need my help for that?”

“No. Just a second opinion.”

“Fine.” He turned back to Naaga, giving him a lingering, open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue against his, thoroughly tasting him. Gods, Naaga tasted like pure water—no grit or dirt or deceit—just cool running water. Naaga was flushed when they broke apart, hands clutching his shirt. He looked a little dazed, eyes fluttering open. “Be ready for me when I get back,” he said softly.

Naaga nodded, reluctantly letting go of his shirt. 

\--------------------

When he got back a few hours later, Balance followed him with their dinner. (Balance had been mostly helping Spada in the kitchen. There was an old storage room with no surveillance that they were using so Balance could practice using his Seiza Blaster and Kyuutama.) He was not sure what to expect when they got there, but he hoped that Naaga understood he was not serious about the request. 

He worried for nothing.

Naaga was curled up on top of the covers to the bed. He’d put his shirt back on and, because the weather on this planet was a little cool, had found a pair of warm socks. He had the blanket from the couch over him and was holding a pillow to his chest. He was dozing.

“He probably needs to sleep for, like, a month, huh?” Balance commented.

Stinger made a noncommittal noise, pang of guilt shooting through him about earlier.

Balance put the food on the table and was off with a wave.

Stinger crossed the room to the bed. He gently smoothed Naaga’s hair away from his face. Naaga exhaled, but didn’t wake up. He looked peaceful. The food would keep—Naaga could sleep a little while longer. 

He went to the window, staring out across the landscape. 

They could survive another nine days.

\--------------------

“You can kiss me again, if you want.”

Stinger turned to Naaga. His statement had been a little tentative, voice wavering. He could feel himself flush, looking at the ground. Jark Matter had clearly not decided to engage Rebellion or the Kyuurangers yet, because, outside of a random request for an opinion, Stinger had been around a lot. They’d fallen into a comfortable routine over the past two days. 

Balance had said, “Stinger is all right. You can trust him.”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, you are the company you keep, right? Just look at Spada. He’s a good guy. And he said there’s this bull android named Champ back on their ship who would vouch for Stinger.” Balance had paused, shaking his head. “A bull android! I’m so pumped to meet the rest of them!”

And really, at this point, he knew that he trusted Stinger. He’d been nothing but kind to him. The first two nights, Stinger had insisted that he take the bed and he just slept on the couch. But the bed was enormous—two people could sleep in the bed and never notice each other. Last night, he’d insisted that Stinger sleep in the bed too. His reasoning was simply that if Scorpio walked in during the night, Stinger not being in the bed but his servant there would raise red flags. Scorpio was less likely to ask questions if both of them were in the bed. 

They would get up in the morning, eat breakfast, and then Stinger would give him a secure datapad—he could read all about Rebellion, the Kyuurangers and lots of other things. Stinger would also train him a little—he said he needed to keep eating three meals a day, gain a little more weight and then he could put on more muscle, but even without the Kyuutama active, he still felt more power behind his movements than he did before. He could tell that Stinger really wanted to comfort him, but was holding back, waiting for him to indicate he was comfortable.

“Not in front of people,” he tried to clarify after a few moments, feeling Stinger’s gaze on him. “When it’s just us. Not when—“

“I know what you mean,” Stinger replied, voice soft and reassuring. He stood up, crossing the room to Naaga. He looked sympathetic. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

He chanced a glance up at Stinger. Stinger still looked sympathetic, but also a little distant, eyes far away. He reached out, gently pushing Naaga’s hair out of his eyes. 

“How about we start smaller than that?” Stinger said softly. “You have a lot of old scars and you’re definitely tense when we train. I have some salve that would help with the scars, and I could give you a back massage.” He shrugged. “Might help a little.”

Naaga was not sure how that was less intimate than kissing, but he agreed. His home planet did not do things like kissing or openly showing affection—emotions were discouraged, because emotions invited conflict and conflict did things like get them into wars. So they’d made the decision centuries ago to stop expressing emotions, keeping their environment carefully controlled, structured and, above all, equal for everyone. He knew about things like kissing and sex—that had become even more apparent when he had to flee his home planet, and then on his travels with Balance—but he had not experienced either or any sort of physical affection until… well, until Stinger. 

Everything here had been pain. 

Kissing Stinger was the first bit of gentleness here. 

He’d thought maybe he was fixating on Stinger and their kiss because of that reason. Stinger had been gentle and shown him consideration and compassion. They probably could have come up with another ruse than the kiss, but time had been short. He hardly remembered the other things that had happened to him, all the terror and fear, but he could remember those brief kisses, in shining color. The warmth of Stinger’s body, how soft his lips had been, how he tasted overpowering, and how Naaga had just wanted to melt against him.

There was a knock on the door.

Naaga jumped a little.

“It’s okay,” Stinger said, reaching out and rubbing his shoulder. “That’s just Balance with lunch.”

He must have still looked startled, because Stinger then added, “You’ll get out of here soon.”

\--------------------

The next afternoon was quiet. Scorpio had nothing for Stinger to do, and Naaga had heard them talking in the hallway last night. “This is the calm before the storm, I suppose,” Scorpio had said. He gave Stinger a pointed look and then nodded to Naaga. “Enjoy things while there is time.” 

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window. Naaga was laying on the bed, on his back, shirt off. Stinger was sitting next to him, gently dabbing the salve on scars. He was framed by the sunlight, hair spilling into his eyes as he concentrated. He was singing softly under his breath. Maybe he thought Naaga couldn’t hear, but the words came out clearly in the silent room. Naaga liked this, the stillness, the peacefulness. Everything in the work camp had been loud and grating. And this quiet was something he could bask in for a long time. 

“Counting the grains of sand across our world,” Singer sang softly, fingers moving slowly, rubbing the salve into a more recent scar on his side. “Facing the light of the breaking dawn.”

Naaga looked up at him. “What is it about?” he asked.

Stinger paused, looking at him. “The song?” Naaga nodded. He let out a long breath. “Just an old song from my home planet.”

“We don’t sing on my home planet.”

“Really?” Stinger sounded a little surprised.

“Anything that promotes emotions is discouraged.”

“I see.” A pause, and then, “You seem like you’re expressing emotions.”

“Out there, I wanted to learn more. I never got much of a chance before we ended up here.”

“This place will crush your soul,” Stinger muttered darkly, moving on to a scar on his ribcage, an older one, not as noticeable. “Where did you and Balance find your Kyuutamas?” he asked, effectively changing the subject.

“On a heist in the Dorado System,” he replied, shifting a little under Stinger’s touch. Stinger touching him seemed to relax him, while at the same time getting him tense. He did not understand the conflicting feelings when he was near Stinger, just knew that he did not want their interactions to end. “A governor had them in his house.”

“Probably didn’t know what they were.”

“We didn’t know what they were, but we took them.” He exhaled sharply. “When we got caught, it seemed really important to keep them safe. So we hid them in Balance.”

The corner of Stinger’s mouth quirked into what could have been a smile. “Garou can relate to that. He found his Kyuutama months before it activated and kept it close to him, despite not really understanding why.”

“His took months to activate?”

“From what he’s said, yes.”

Naaga felt a pang of anxiety. “Will mine take months to activate?”

Stinger rubbed his side warmly. “Probably not.” He gazed down at Naaga, expression empathetic and almost fond. “It’s less about waiting and more about finding your reason to fight.”

“I want to fight.”

“I know you do. But just wanting to isn’t enough. There’s lots of reasons. You’ll find yours.”

“Why are you fighting?”

Stinger’s eyes looked distant for a moment. “At one point in my life, my brother was the bravest person I knew. Even being here, being close to him, in his inner circle, I still don’t understand why he betrayed our people and joined Jark Matter. I don’t know why he chose evil over the people who raised him and loved him.” He let out a long breath. “I want to stop Jark Matter from taking good, strong people and twisting them until their families don’t recognize them.”

Naaga reached up, hand touching Stinger’s hair for a moment. “Stinger,” he breathed.

Stinger looked down at him, fingers pushing his hair away from his forehead. “Don’t underestimate yourself,” he said softly. “You’re from a close-borders people that doesn’t express emotions. And somehow you escaped the Jark Matter invasion and became a thief for a while. That alone takes strength. Give yourself some time… and some grace.”

Naaga had a feeling Stinger needed to follow his own advice.

“I’m not strong,” he whispered.

“You’ve been here for months and we’re having a rational conversation,” Stinger pointed out.

Stinger leaned down a little further, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. For a moment, Naaga thought his might kiss him again. He reached up, fingers threading through Stinger’s hair. That was all the encouragement he needed. He closed the small space between them, pressing their lips together. The kiss was long and chaste, but also warm and comfortable. Naaga responded, moving his lips against Stinger’s, shifting a little underneath him. Stinger broke the kiss without deepening it, fingers in his hair again. He looked almost apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I—“

“Don’t,” Naaga said quickly. “I wanted it too.”

“Naaga, you’ve been through so much. You don’t need me—“

“I want you to,” he interrupted again. He didn’t know why, but he asked, “Did Balance tell you about the assassin?”

Stinger nodded.

“I didn’t tell him what happened, but she was the worst.”

His throat felt tight, eyes stinging with tears. He hated thinking about those times, but they gnawed on the edge of his thoughts. Not talking about them was supposed to make them go away. But they lingered still. Stinger sat up, leaning against the headboard of the bed. He gently pulled Naaga into his arms, so he was between his legs, leaning against his chest. Naaga went willingly and easily, not quite understanding why he found such comfort in Stinger’s embrace.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Stinger murmured.

“I want to,” he said softly. “She liked pain. A lot.”

Stinger’s arms tightened around him.

“She would have me come to her tent and make me strip. And then she’d do things to me.”

Stinger pulled back a little, hand on his cheek, eyes concerned. “Would she—“

“No,” Naaga replied quickly, understanding his meaning. “Nothing like that. She would come up with new ways to hurt me every time. She told me once that using violent sex against people was child’s play. She could completely dominate anyone without going there.” He let out a shuddering breath, tears falling down his cheeks. “No one would stop her.” A sob came bubbling up. He hated crying, hated sobbing about these things and here he was again.

Stinger pulled him completely against his chest, holding him close. He rocked him a little as one hand rubbed his back. He was making nonsense soothing noises. Just being close to Stinger was enough to make him start crying in earnest. He pressed his face against Stinger’s chest, desperately trying to muffle the noises coming out of him. Stinger just continued to hold him.

After a while, he felt the cries die out and he just laid against Stinger, suddenly tired.

“Come on,” Stinger said after a moment, leaning back enough to wipe away the remaining tears with his thumb. “I’ll run you a bath before dinner. Then I think we just need to go to bed early.”

Not really wanting to be alone, Naaga just asked, “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course.” Stinger pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

\--------------------

The next few days were much the same, quiet and peaceful. Naaga found himself still getting tired easily and Stinger had been encouraging him to rest as much as possible. He was glad when Stinger kissed him again and kept up the warm familiarity. He’d even been brave enough to initiate one of the kisses. He found that he liked being close to Stinger, who was more than willing to comfort him, in whatever way made the most sense at that point. But mostly, Naaga liked being around another person who was calm and centered. The others in the work camp… they’d betray one another for anything and who could really blame them? Food and sleep were scarce and the most anyone could hope for was to avoid being the target of one of the wardens. 

One evening, Stinger got a secure video call on his datapad.

“Hi partner,” the bull android on the other end said.

“Champ,” Stinger said as a greeting. 

Champ’s gaze cut over to Naaga. “You must be Naaga,” he continued. “Stinger says you can hold people in place with your mind and you pack a pretty mean punch.”

“I’m out of practice,” Naaga said softly, feeling a flush rise in his cheeks.

“If you haven’t guessed, that’s Champ,” Stinger said, sitting down next to Naaga on the couch with the datapad. 

“You’re a Kyuuranger too?” Naaga asked.

“Yup. Oushi,” Champ replied. “I wanted to go undercover with them, but I’m pretty unique and on all the Jark Matter blacklists.” He mooed a little. “So I’m leading the extraction team.”

“You have a time frame for us?” Stinger questioned.

Champ nodded. “Day after the big party, so two days from now. Elidron’s crowd will be in for the party and then out that night. Lots of extra ships around. The chaos in their departure will cover our transport ship getting all four of you out.”

“All four of us?”

“You’re coming too, partner. Latest intel says Scorpio is headed for Earth soon. We can both face him properly there, as Kyuurangers.”

“I’m close to him right now. We can use that to our advantage.”

“He’s high-ranking, but intel says he’s Don Armage’s hammer. He’s not close enough to Don Armage to really tell us anything.”

Stinger looked frustrated with the decision. 

“Let it go, partner. We’ll get him another time.” Champ turned to Naaga. “Good to meet you, Naaga,” he continued. “Can you give me and Stinger a minute?”

Naaga nodded. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. Stinger kissed his temple before he got up.

Two days. Two days and he would be out of this place forever.

\--------------------

“You and Naaga seem close,” Champ commented.

“Shut-up,” Stinger muttered.

“It’s really sweet.” Champ paused. “Be careful though. Naaga’s been through a lot. Make sure everything is his choice.”

“Believe me, it is,” Stinger replied. “We kissed once to keep up the ruse for my brother, and Naaga decided he wanted to keep doing that.”

“You care about him?”

“I care about him a lot.”

“Have you told him about the party yet?”

“No.” Stinger raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how. It will upset him.”

“I think he knows you’ll protect him.” Champ shrugged. “You said he’s strong.”

“His Kyuutama hasn’t activated yet.”

“That has nothing to do with strength and you know it.” Champ gestured vaguely. “He’s been in this work camp for months and he’s walking and talking. You know only someone really strong could have survived all that.”

“I know.”

“Tell him about the party and give him time to prepare.” A pause, and then, “I’m looking forward to having you all back on the ship. And I’m really looking forward to Naaga kicking your ass.”

“He is not going to kick my ass.”

“Oh, it’s only a matter of time before he gets completely under your defenses.” Champ mooed. “Tell him about the scarf you knitted for him?”

“Shut-up! That was when we were tracking them before we actually met them.”

“So now you’re thinking sweater? Or a blanket?”

“I regret ever telling you about that.”

“I’ll send the coordinates over the secure channel. Be ready at the time in my message and we’ll disable all the security.” Champ waved. “And I promise to let you tell Naaga about the knitting when you’re ready.”

“Bye Champ,” Stinger said, barely suppressing rolling his eyes as he disconnected the call. 

\--------------------

The party, if that really was the word for such a thing, was just another one of Scorpio’s power plays. Elidron was going to be on planet to discuss his continuing plans for the planet Earth. With another Chief Retainer came his entire entourage of governors, underlings and advisors. Scorpio made sure that all his people knew the party was not optional and their purpose there was to make him look good. He’d made very sure that Stinger understood he was to bring Naaga with him.

The first tactic he had tried to get Naaga out of the thing was simple. “I don’t want others touching him or even looking at him,” Stinger had said. “He’s mine and I’m not sharing.”

“No one’s going to,” Scorpio had replied. “Remember I am the reason you have him in the first place. This party will be good for both of you.”

“Good for us?” Stinger had shot back with disgust. “How is that—“

“You treat him like he’s your lover,” Scorpio had interrupted. “You’ve only had him, what, a week? Ten days? You’re indulging him too much. You need to remember you’re in my favor and that’s the only reason you’re standing here, with all these privileges. And your servant needs to remember his place.”

Injury or illness wouldn’t work, because Scorpio would just tell him to put Naaga in a pod and heal him and bring him right back. He’d asked Champ if the extraction could be moved up, but the chaos with the extra people was providing the bulk of their cover. And Champ had seemed frustrated about not being able to move everything up, but the chances were better at the original time and Champ wanted to see all four of them alive. 

The day of the party dawned sunny and clear. 

Naaga was on edge. He’d picked at breakfast and lunch, not really eating anything. He was pacing the room, nervous energy palpable. Stinger had tried to distract him, get him to calm down, but to no avail. Training, Rebellion history, even just telling him stories about the other Kyuurangers… nothing was getting him to relax. And he needed to relax. If Naaga was relaxed, then Stinger was relaxed and then he could concentrate on being bored and aloof the entire party. And that ruse was going to get them through whatever Scorpio had planned tonight. Naaga could hang all over him at the party—that would not be given a second glance from anyone. 

Stinger was sitting on the couch, watching Naaga pace by the window.

“Naaga?” he asked. Naaga turned to him, questioning look. “You want to make out?”

“Yes,” Naaga replied simply.

“Then come over here.”

Naaga slowly crossed the room, coming to stand in front of him. Stinger reached out, taking his hand and pulling him onto the couch, on his lap. Naaga went easily and willingly, knee on either side of his hips as he sank down, straddling his lap, fully seated. Stinger wrapped one arm around his waist, holding him close and threaded his other hand through his hair, angling him for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Naaga responded immediately to the kiss, opening further to allow him more access. He ran his tongue against Naaga’s, remembering why that first kiss stayed with him, why he loved kissing Naaga. He kept everyone in his life at arm’s length, so he was startled with how swiftly and deeply he’d fallen for Naaga. He wanted to protect Naaga until he found his strength, his reasons for fighting and then, gods, he’d be beautiful and a force to be reckoned with. 

They broke apart briefly to breathe and then went back to the kiss, things turning messy, wet and just a little uncoordinated. The hand on Naaga’s waist slid further, grasping his ass and pulling them flush. Naaga made a needy noise into the kiss, hips grinding down. He lowered the hand in Naaga’s hair to his waist, fingers moving underneath his shirt, finding soft skin and running his palm over his side. Naaga’s hands were on his shoulders, fingers grasping his shirt. He moved away from Naaga’s lips, pressing a kiss to his jaw and then hot kisses down his neck. He tugged his shirt a little, exposing enough skin to suck kisses onto his collarbone. 

A whine came out of Naaga and then his hands were moving. He pulled back a little, stripping off his shirt in one motion. Stinger pulled him close again, continuing to press bruising kisses to his skin. One hand ran the expanse of his back, feeling the skin and scars, memorizing the body beneath his touch. “Stinger,” Naaga breathed as he ducked his head, paying attention to one of his nipples. 

Stinger wrapped an arm around his waist securely and then lifted Naaga a little, enough to let him change their positions on the couch. Naaga was underneath him on the couch, Stinger’s weight pressing him gently into the cushions. Stinger was between his legs, grinding down, feeling the answering interest from Naaga. They hadn’t gone any further than kissing and grinding. He was afraid to go much further with Naaga at this point. A part of him felt bad about going along with the kissing in the first place, but Naaga had made it very clear he wanted to do so. And Balance had told Stinger as an aside that Naaga was very stubborn and, once he decided what he wanted, that’s what he was getting. Balance had walked in on them kissing once. He seemed to think that was a sign that some of Naaga’s old spark was coming back. 

He moved back up to his lips, continuing the fiery kisses. Naaga moaned into the kiss, fingers in his hair, hips grinding up. After kissing for a while longer, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Naaga’s. They were both breathing unevenly. Naaga’s lips were kiss-swollen and he looked dazed. His body was warm under his own, the tension draining away. He traced Naaga’s lips for a moment, those gray eyes tracking his movements. He reached for the neck of his own shirt, pulling the garment off. Naaga’s hands were on his chest, tracing out his own body. 

“Stinger?” Naaga asked. The air between them was warm and quiet.

“Hmm?” he responded idly, ducking his head to kiss Naaga’s shoulder.

“Can we have sex?”

He lifted his head. Naaga knew nothing about relationships or flirting or any social cues that someone was interested in another person, wanted to kiss them or go further with them. Over the past few days, he’d been a quick study in giving signals he wanted to kiss and watching for invitations from Stinger. But going further? Naaga’s tactic was just to ask for what he wanted, rather than figure out all the social niceties around it. And honestly, Stinger found the straightforwardness refreshing and endearing. Naaga was very clear with what he did and did not want. No second-guessing. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he finally said.

“You said that about kissing.”

“I know. It’s just… Naaga, I want you to be sure.”

“I am sure.”

Stinger ran a hand comfortingly down his side. “We haven’t known each other that long.”

“Do you have to know someone a long time before you have sex?”

He smiled. “Not necessarily.” He shrugged. “People tend to wait a little bit, especially if the other person is someone they want in their life for a long time.”

“Do you want me in your life for a long time?”

Stinger leaned down, kissing the corner of his mouth. “We have no idea what is going to happen with Jark Matter and Rebellion,” he replied. “But, yes, I’d like to have you in my life for a long time.”

Champ was right. Naaga was completely under his defenses and in his heart. 

“So how long do we have to wait?” Naaga asked.

“There’s not a specified time frame. Usually just when it feels right.”

Naaga let out a long breath. “These rules make no sense,” he grumbled. 

“How about once we get back to the ship, we see how we feel about that? And then we’ll go ahead and do it?”

“That’s tomorrow,” Naaga pointed out. “Is eleven days the appropriate time frame?”

Stinger kissed him soundly, holding on for longer than needed. When they broke apart, he just smiled down at Naaga. “That might be on the small end of the frame, but I think we’ll be okay.” He shrugged. “No one actually monitors this stuff.”

Naaga pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss. 

They kissed lazily for a while, none of the heat of the first kisses, but comfortable, familiar and holding an intimacy that Stinger had never felt with someone else. 

“Come on,” he said after a while. “Let’s take a bath.”

“And then we have to get ready.” Naaga’s expression darkened slightly.

“Naaga, it will be fine. I promise. Just do what I say and we’ll get through.”

Naaga took a deep breath, nodding.

They were so close to getting out of here—they could survive.

\--------------------

They were perched on a small chaise, the other governors and Chief Retainers roaring with laughter around them. Naaga was pressed against his side, partially in his lap. He kept one arm around Naaga’s waist, which looked like a possessive display to the others, but also was helping keep Naaga close and calm. What he’d endured in the work camps at the hands of the wardens and the assassin was nothing compared to what would happen at this party. He kept a glass of firewhiskey in his other hand, pretending to nurse the drink, but had not actually had any. (One of the oddest things Stinger had found since going undercover was how easy it was to pretend to drink, but not actually drink.)

He stared out at the others. Most were just eating and drinking. A few had servants hanging on them that were specifically their concubines. No surprise there. But Scorpio had promised a main event to suitably impress them. (Although Stinger had no idea why he was bothering. This was just Elidron and his crew. Even though Elidron was also a Chief Retainer, he was nowhere near as highly ranked or favored as Scorpio, so he was not one who needed to be impressed.)

Naaga shifted against him, breath warm against his neck. His face was impassive, but Stinger could feel his heartbeat, rapid and erratic. He shook slightly, enough for Stinger to feel it, but not enough for someone else to see.

One of Elidron’s governors had nearly stared a fight earlier. Naaga was getting Stinger the firewhiskey and the governor had loudly asked for some too. Since Naaga was so anxious, his hands had been shaking and he spilled some when getting the governor’s. So the governor tried to backhand Naaga, only to have Stinger grab his wrist and say, “Do not touch him.”

“I am a governor and he needs to be punished!”

“If any of that is happening, I will deliver it.”

“It’s just firewhiskey,” Scorpio had said. “Calm down. Stinger’s never brought him to one of these before.”

The rebuke from Scorpio got the governor to back off, although he glared their direction every so often. Scorpio had just said under his breath to Stinger, “Get him in order.”

Scorpio stood up now, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “Thank you all for being here,” he said. “With Elidron preparing a successful run on the planet Earth, I have prepared something a little special for this evening.”

He nodded and two Indavers dragged a young man into the room. He was clearly a prisoner and also very clearly drugged. Stinger inwardly swore. None of this bode well. He’d heard stories from some of the lower level governors about things like this and Scorpio could go a couple different ways with this, likely something extremely violent. 

“A gift,” Scorpio said as the man was dropped in the center of the room. “You get to decide what happens to him.” Another Indaver came out with a small bag, passing tokens around to Elidron and his crew. They skipped anyone in Scorpio’s entourage and Stinger understood why—this was supposed to be a present for Elidron. 

“The tokens are numbered,” Stinger continued. “The only rule is that you keep him alive until the last token. Anything else is fair game.”

The Indavers came back with a tray of weapons. 

Fucking hell. Stinger swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Naaga was silent, but pressed closer to Stinger. He pulled Naaga more into his lap, encouraging him to wrap an arm around his waist. He set the firewhiskey down on an end table, wrapping both arms around Naaga. The move was meant to look like he was getting more comfortable. No one looked twice. Naaga pressed his face against the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Don’t look,” he whispered to Naaga.

Scorpio glanced at him for a moment. He thought Scorpio might tell him to make Naaga watch, but his older brother’s attention was swept back to Elidron’s people.

The first person chose a knife.

Stinger stopped paying attention, looking through the scene in front of him. If he or Naaga tried to stop what was happening, they would be killed. Naaga made a noise too soft for anyone other than Stinger to hear, and he thought it was a whimper. Jark Matter kept people in line with displays like this. People who protested were killed immediately and that stopped others from protesting the situation. Nothing like fear for their own life to keep people from speaking out.

The screams were terrible and every one made Naaga flinch and whimper.

He had no idea how much time had passed before the Indavers were carrying a corpse out of the room, neatly folding up a tarp and taking away the tray, leaving no trace of the horrible violence and murder that had just happened in the room. The collar of his shirt felt wet and he realized that Naaga had been crying. Naaga was trembling violently. Some of the others were heading back to their rooms, others were refilling their drinks and eating at the dessert trays. The people dispersing belonged to Elidron and Scorpio, so they could leave now and not be noticed.

Stinger just gently encouraged Naaga to stand, and then threaded their fingers together. Naaga grasped his hand hard, other hands going to grab his wrist, completely tethering him to Stinger. He led Naaga out of the room. They got as far as a thankfully empty corridor near the lift to take them back to Stinger’s quarters when Naaga’s legs gave out and he stumbled to the ground in the hall.

He leaned down, getting an arm around Naaga’s waist and hauling him to his feet. “We can’t stay here,” he whispered urgently. “Let’s get back to the room.” He got Naaga’s arm around his shoulders, and then reached out to hit the lift button. Most of Naaga’s weight was on Stinger. He didn’t mind. He just wanted to get Naaga someplace private, with no surveillance (like his quarters) to break down. 

Naaga was breathing shallowly as they got into the lift. 

He rubbed Naaga’s side, keeping him close. Luckily, the lift did not stop on another floor and he was able to get Naaga out of the lift and down the short hallway to his quarters quickly. Once inside, Naaga pulled away from him a little bit and he realized he was headed towards the bathroom. He followed him just enough to make sure he got there, hand on his back as he stumbled to the toilet and emptied the contents of his stomach. He’d eaten very little all day. After everything came up, he dry-heaved a few more times, before collapsing on the floor. 

“Naaga,” he said softly, knowing there was nothing he could say to make things better. He reached out, gently pushing Naaga’s hair away from his face. After a few moments of ragged breathing, Naaga pushed himself to his feet and went to the sink, rinsing out his mouth and then grabbing his toothbrush.

Stinger rubbed his lower back for a moment, and then left him in the bathroom to finish what he needed to. He stepped out into the room. He scrubbed his hands over his face. Had he seen too many awful things since going undercover? Was he now numb to them? Naaga had spent months in the work camps and he was still sensitive to the awfulness that was Jark Matter. Stopping something like Scorpio’s party was not going to help. Jark Matter had to be dismantled from the top down and only then would people feel safe speaking out against these things.

“How are you so calm?” Naaga had come out of the bathroom.

Stinger turned to him. “I’ve seen a lot of terrible things,” he replied softly. “And I’m undercover here to get you and Balance out. Speaking out against that would get all of us killed.”

“I understand that,” Naaga said, crossing the room to him. His hands went to Stinger’s shoulder, one hand sliding to the back of his neck. Stinger wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. “But you stayed calm the whole time.”

“I need to get you and Balance out of here and then all nine of us will be together, and we’ll be able to take down Jark Matter and stop every horrible thing they do.”

Naaga looked at him for a few moments, gray eyes studying his face. His voice was low and tight when he spoke. “I want these places gone. No one should have to go through this.”

“When we liberate planets and get rid of their governors, Rebellion comes in and helps dismantle the Jark Matter infrastructure, meaning any work camps or prisons from Jark Matter are gone.”

Naaga’s hand scrabbled at his neck for a moment. “Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Stinger confirmed.

“I am going to get rid of these places.”

Stinger believed him. 

Naaga’s expression shifted from determined to slightly shy. “I know you said we needed to wait, but I want you closer to me.”

Stinger threaded a hand through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Okay,” he replied. “Okay. We can do that.” He kissed Naaga again, long and chaste. “I have what we need.”

At this point, he didn’t care what anyone else thought about he and Naaga getting closer. He kept him close, catching him open-mouthed and deepening the kiss. They made it to the bed, Naaga getting eager as they removed their clothes, opening up new skin to explore. They took their time, kissing deeply and lazily. Stinger went slowly opening him up and then, finally, finally, they were as close as Naaga wanted, moaning deeply in the back of his throat. 

Afterwards, he held Naaga close. 

This was something he could get used to.

\--------------------

Naaga blinked awake in the middle of the night. Frowning, he glanced around the room, trying to figure out what had woken him up. He sat up, shifting away from where he had effectively been using Stinger’s chest as a pillow. Stinger exhaled, shifting a little, but not waking up yet. He glanced around, and then his eyes landed on Stinger’s pack on a bench at the end of the bed. Muffled light seemed to be emanating from the pack. 

Staying under the covers as much as he could, he moved to the foot of the bed and opened the pack, seeing immediately what was causing the light. He pulled out his Kyuutama and Stinger’s, both glowing softly and steadily. The light seemed to get brighter when he held them. His own Kyuutama felt warm against his palm, the silver light meaning his Kyuutama had finally activated.

He tried to swallow a lump in his throat as he stared at his Kyuutama.

Stinger shifted behind him, and then he felt Stinger wrap one arm around his chest and the other around his waist, chin on his shoulder, holding him close. 

“Congratulations,” Stinger whispered. 

He continued to hold both their Kyuutamas in his palm, staring at both.

“I’ve never seen an active one get that bright,” Stinger commented softly.

“Yours is that bright too.”

Stinger nuzzled his shoulder. “I know. It’s responding to you.”

“I’m a Kyuuranger now.”

“You’ve always been a Kyuuranger, ever since the Kyuutama chose you.” An open-mouthed kiss pressed to his shoulder. “Now you can change and use your Seiza Blaster.”

Out of everyone in the universe, Naaga did not really understand why his Kyuutama chose him. But now he had the ability to fight, to get rid of the terrible things in the world. He seemed so small compared to the vastness that they needed to overcome. 

There was a soft knock on the door.

They both turned to the door. Stinger kissed his temple and moved to get out of bed. He pulled on a pair of loose black pants. “Just put the Kyuutamas in my pack,” he said softly. “And get back in bed, pretend to be asleep.”

Naaga did both, putting the Kyuutamas in the pack and closing the pack. He then pulled the sheets over him, moving back on the bed so his head was on the pillow and he was lying out completely. He closed his eyes, hearing Stinger open the door. The door opened and closed, and then he heard Spada say, “Some of the people are leaving early, so Champ moved up the extraction.” Naaga opened his eyes, securely under the covers. 

Spada glanced from Stinger to Naaga and back again. “What the hell did you do?” Spada asked, tone shocked and a little disgusted.

“It’s okay,” Naaga said quickly, sitting up. “I wanted to.”

Spada was still glaring daggers at Stinger, and Naaga was not sure why. Had they done something wrong?

“You two need to get dressed,” Spada finally said. “Get his tracker out. Balance and I will meet you down in the square in twenty minutes.”

“His Kyuutama activated,” Stinger added.

“Good. Show him how to use the Seiza Blaster.”

And Spada was gone.

“Is he mad at us?” Naaga asked as Stinger pulled a bag from under the bed and deposited the duffel on top of the bed.

Stinger shook his head. “He doesn’t understand the situation and he didn’t like me taking you and Balance as servants in the first place.” He pulled clothes from the bag, simple, dark-colored and sturdy, along with a pair of boots. “These should fit,” he continued. “Get dressed and I’ll get the tracker out.”

In a few minutes, they were both completely dressed, including their shoes. Stinger shoved the few personal effects they had into his pack and then set his datapad to scanning mode. “Hold still for a minute,” Stinger muttered. “I just need to find the tracker.” He watched the scanner. “Lower back.”

They went into the bathroom, Stinger grabbing a bottle of clear alcohol, his pocketknife and a pair of tweezers. He pulled a bandage from a drawer in the bathroom. “This is going to hurt,” he said, voice apologetic. 

Naaga cried out, then biting his lip to keep from crying out further. He’d endured worse, but the last ten days had started to make all the pain seem like a hazy memory, brought back in sharp focus as Stinger poured the alcohol over the knife and tweezers, and used both to get the tracker from under his skin. The tracker made a pinging noise against the counter. Naaga looked at the chip—such a small thing was such a powerful explosive. “Bleeding is slowing down,” Stinger said. “I’m double bandaging this and then we need to get you in a pod on the ship.”

He felt Stinger press bandages to the spot and then tape them in place. Stinger cleaned off the knife and the tweezers, throwing a bloody towel in the hamper after wiping the counter. Almost like they hadn’t just pulled out a tracker in here. 

Stinger then pulled on his pack and his own Seiza Blaster. He helped Naaga get his on his wrist and then handed him his Kyuutama. “You can fire without your Kyuutama,” Stinger explained. Use the trigger on the side or the button on the handle to fire. Kyuutama can dock in it. Once the Kyuutama docks, treat it like a switch to activate and then pull the trigger to henshin.”

“Will we need to do that?”

“Hopefully not.”

The halls were quiet as they made their way down to the square. Lots of vehicles and people roamed around. They met Spada and Balance at the edge. Spada nodded to a beat-up ship with Jark Matter markings painted on. They all made their way to the ship, lost in the chaos of all the people loading ships, talking and shouting. Naaga was amazed at how easy it was for them to just walk to the ship and get in. Balance was covered in a cloak and Naaga was dressed in civilian clothes—they did not look like prisoners or servants anymore, so no one paid any attention. 

The door to the ship opened and Champ ushered them in, shutting the door behind them. “Moo,” Champ huffed. “The large party moved up their departure to get to Earth sooner, so we needed to land here sooner than expected.”

“Awesome!” a really short woman in the co-pilot seat said.

“Who’s flying?” Stinger asked.

“Raptor, of course,” Champ replied.

Stinger looked relieved. An android in the pilot seat waved. Stinger introduced Raptor and then the woman in the co-pilot seat as Hame. 

“We left Lucky and Garou back on the ship,” Champ continued. “Lucky is too loud for undercover missions and Garou promised to supervise him getting Naaga’s and Balance’s rooms ready.”

Naaga pressed close to Stinger as they took off and got through the checkpoint. The tightness in his chest did not dissipate until they were fully in space and far away from any other Jark Matter ship. He could not really believe that, after all that time, they were now out of the work camp. The legend of the Kyuurangers was true, and he and Balance were both Kyuurangers. Balance gave him a thumbs-up as they headed towards a Rebellion ship.

Perhaps home was no longer a place, but people. 

And he was going to be home with Stinger and Balance around him.

\--------------------

The ship was quiet this late at night.

Naaga couldn’t sleep. Even with the down comforter on the bed, a long-sleeved shirt, thick socks and flannel pajama pants, he was still shivering as he lay under the covers, teeth chattering violently. He’d never been in space long enough before to realize how cold it was out here. He and Balance had taken transports between planets and systems, never up for longer than a few hours. But here, the cold seemed to have settled into his bones and nothing was warming him up. (He’d even felt cold during a hot shower, the water turned as hot as possible without scalding him.) He crept down the hallway, trying to remember where Spada had told him the food machine was. He could at least get some hot tea.

He balled his hands inside the sleeves of his hoodie.

Everything had gone fast since getting off the planet. Stinger helped him off the transport and into the infirmary, where he put him in a medical pod to take care of the injury where they pulled the tracker out. The nano-bots took very little time with that, but Stinger was still gone when Naaga got out. Instead, Spada and Balance were there.

Spada showed them around the ship, eventually bringing them to their quarters. He pointed out that their rooms were next to each other. His expression had darkened when Naaga asked where Stinger’s room was. Naaga had seen a lot romantic relationships (he supposed that’s what he and Stinger’s relationship was, if what they had could be called a relationship), and he knew that Spada had been unhappy with Stinger from the beginning. Naaga had tried explaining, once again, that he was fine with everything Stinger did and, in fact, initiated some of it.

Spada had just shaken his head and said, “Stinger doesn’t have the best judgment.”

Champ, on the other hand, had mooed and laughed upon seeing Naaga again, and pointed out Stinger’s room with no hesitation. “My partner doesn’t warm up to anyone,” he had commented. “Took the two of us weeks to come to an understanding. But you? I’ve never seen him fall for someone like that.” Champ had just clapped his shoulder. “Trust me, Stinger cares about you.”

He paused in the hallway. 

Stinger was coming out of the galley. He stopped when he saw him. “Naaga,” he whispered.

“Hi,” Naaga replied, trying to stop the shivering.

Stinger frowned. “You’re cold.” Not a question.

He nodded.

“We’re in space. It gets cold.” He paused, expression softening a little. “I have something for you.”

Naaga followed him down the hall, back towards the living quarters. “Why weren’t you there in the infirmary?” he questioned softly.

Stinger gave him a long look, slightly pained. “You have enough to adjust to. You didn’t need me complicating things.”

“You’re not complicating things.” Naaga paused, before realizing, “Don’t tell me how to feel.”

They stopped, Stinger looking at him. “How do you feel?”

“Cold,” he shot back, and then, “Lonely.”

“Lonely?” Stinger seemed surprised.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay.” Stinger looked a little hopeful. “I can help with those things. If you want me to.”

“I do.”

They walked in a comfortable silence to Stinger’s room. Stinger let him in and then grabbed a small bundle from his desk. Naaga looked around with interest. Stinger’s room was a little bit cluttered, but mostly neat—he didn’t appear to have enough things for there to be true clutter. He handed the bundle to Naaga. A scarf.

“I didn’t know what color you’d want,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “So I picked something neutral.”

Naaga unfolded the gray scarf. “You made this?”

Stinger nodded, suddenly looking a little vulnerable.

“It’s very nice.” He wrapped the scarf around his neck. He moved into Stinger’s space, starting a long and chaste kiss, almost a thank you. Stinger responded, sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him close. Naaga sighed into the kiss, the warmth of Stinger’s body finally melting some of the bone-deep cold. When they broke apart, he just murmured, “You’re warm.”

“And you are a block of ice,” Stinger commented. He gestured towards his bed. “Want to sleep here tonight?”

“Yes please.”

Stinger did not take much time to change into his pajamas. Before they got under the blankets, Stinger convinced him to take off the hoodie, scarf and socks. “It will get hot with two people, believe me.” He sighed again as Stinger pulled the blankets up to their shoulders, and then wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Their legs tangled together. Naaga tried to tuck his freezing feet a little further up Stinger’s legs. After a few minutes, he felt the cold begin to dissipate and be replaced with comfortable warmth. Stinger kissed his forehead. 

He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he’d figure it out.

He was a Kyuuranger after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was all set to write a weird Fashion Designer AU (that I mentioned once over on tumblr), but then I was watching Rogue One at the beginning, when Jyn is getting transported to the work camp... and then all this weirdness happened! I also appear to be incapable of writing something under 10k words right now. :/
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading this novelette! You can find me over on tumblr also, sitting in my corner, going down with my Kyuuranger ship! :D


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